


X-MEN : Business Class

by Nalou



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Airplane Sex, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, BAMF Charles, M/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 07:58:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10271930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalou/pseuds/Nalou
Summary: Erik has more than eight hours to lose before going back home, and the lady beside him has decided it won't be eight peaceful hours... He's glad to find some distraction in one beautiful Chief Attendant.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SomeCoolName](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeCoolName/gifts).



> This is written as a gift to the magnificient SomeCoolName. If you don't know her, then... I don't even know what to say. You've lost your time here. Go read her stories !
> 
> Always betaed by the lovelies FlowTralala, NausS and Elizabeth Mary Holmes. Any remaining mistake is mine.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen. My name is Charles Xavier, today I will be your Chief Attendant. All the crew is pleased to welcome you on board of this British Airways flight to New-York. We will be attending to your safety and comfort during this journey. Our estimated trip duration today is eight hours and twenty minutes. The weather is clear but we might encounter some turbulences later in the evening.

We remind you that you are not allowed to smoke and that all your electronic devices must be turned off during take-off and landing. Moreover, all use of any kind of mutation is strictly forbidden for the all duration of the flight for safety reasons.

We will show you the security measures, we thank you for your attention.

Emergency exits on either side of the cabin are clearly marked by EXIT sign. Two of them are located at the front, four at the centre, and two at the rear. Floor lighting will guide you to these exits.

In case of an emergency, you will have to leave your luggage in the plane.

Your seatbelt is fastened and released like this.

If there is a drop in cabin pressure your oxygen mask will automatically drop down in front of you. Pull the mask to release the oxygen. Place the mask over your nose and mouth and breathe normally. Please get your mask on before helping others.

You will find these safety procedures in the seat pocket in front of you. Please read it carefully.

In preparation for take off, please fold away your table and ensure your seatback is in upright position.

On behalf of British Airways and our SkyTeam partners, we wish you a very pleasant flight.”

The voice resonating in the cabin is rather nice, but Erik cannot see the man it belongs to. He must be at the front of the aircraft and not attending Business Class. Anyway, he watches the stewardess show the appropriate movements while the voice enunciate them. He has already taken so much flights he knows them to the core, but as long as he is not able to put his computer on the table in front of him, there is nothing he can do but listening to it. He observes his fellow passengers, all business men and women, exhausted from a day abroad. He’s glad not to be in First Class because he can’t stand rich and posh people, always demanding and insufferable. Even if that means not seeing who this voice belongs to. He’ll cope with that, that’s just another distraction.

 

The plane finally takes off and he can start to work on his report. He has to do it while it’s still fresh in his mind, or else he’ll miss important details on the new investors.

 

His laptop roars to life when he presses the button, and he sets it on his table to start a new worksheet. He has already typed a few words when he hears his neighbor, an old lady, complaining without talking to him.

 

“People forgot what respect is. Cannot fly home without being bothered. I told them I wanted to be in First Class.”

 

The words fall in his ears but he tries to ignore her. He’ll have to cope with her for the next eight hours, so he won’t let her get on his nerves so early in the trip, even if she’s exactly what he wanted to avoid in the first place. He keeps typing, more aware now of the noise his keyboard makes, but he can’t do anything about it. Anyway, the old lady’s just rambling.

 

But she’s now addressing the woman checking on them, ranting about the stiffness of her seat and the lack of a proper heating system because she’s  _ cold _ and  _ what are you waiting for? _

 

Erik massages his temples with both hands and gives an apologetic smile when the flight attendant gets back to them with a blanket and a pillow.

 

The woman makes her put the pillow behind her back, forcing the flight attendant to bend over Erik to maneuver, and he can’t move, frozen into place, his eyes drawn on the ceiling to give her a modicum of respect. The stewardess smiles shyly to him, glad of the gesture. They must not be used to it, he thinks. He guesses that respect for  women on planes is almost inexistent. Just like in bars, or clubs, or anywhere they are forced to wear specific outfits for the likes of the customers. Never was he interested in this kind of stuff,he  hasn’t been interested in a woman for a long time, so he just loathes the way they are treated, like pastries on a display, like they weren’t at the same level as men. See, the male crew does not have to display legs or cleavage. Their blue suits and crisp white shirts are well-cut and fitted, but not ostentatious.

 

Lost in his thoughts, it’s only when the old lady taps his arm that he realises she was talking to him. She starts again, giving him the whole story of her long and hard life as the wife of a wealthy petrol tycoon, whose children are all scattered over Europe. She just left one of her sons, and is coming back to her estate, but really,  _ travelling is such a chore _ .

 

Erik tries to look interested enough so that she won’t maul him again, but she’s speaking so loudly it keeps him from writing anything. He can’t do much, always asked if he  _ sees _ or  _ understands _ what she’s been through, and he can’t escape. He already tried to look busy but she wouldn’t have it. She  _ has  _ to tell someone about what happened last time she was in  Business Class with all those workers addicted to their  _ computers  _ and  _ phones  _ and  _ whatever _ . That’s not as if his laptop is waiting for him to do some work, right… He starts considering to tell her to  _ piss the hell off _ when the stewards get the refreshment trolleys in the aisle, at the other end of the compartment. He can see the man in the blue suit coming slowly near him, someone he hasn’t seen  there since they left the airport. From where he is, several meters from him, he can see a mop of brown hair, a pale face where cherry-red lips smile and vivid blue eyes shine.

 

The woman keeps on chattering but he doesn’t even register her anymore.

 

The man comes closer, and Erik can finally read his name on the tag plastered on his chest.  _ Charles Xavier _ . The sexy-voiced Chief Attendant. Now, that's not just the voice that Erik find sexy. He can’t get his eyes off him until the man comes to them.

 

“Sir, Madam, do you want anything to drink?” the steward asks, and his English accent is endearing.

 

He is so close right now that Erik can see the different shades of blue rounding his pupils, the paleness of his neck circled by the collar of his white shirt and the perfectly knotted midnight blue necktie. He particularly likes the fact that it’s really thin. Erik‘s mind comes to a stop for a second, completely stunned by the man. 

 

The old hag next to him breaks the moment by asking for champagne coming from an unopened bottle, and he searches for something to say while  _ Charles _ pops the cork and the bubbles fizz against the flute when he serves.

 

“Red wine, please” is all Erik can mutter when Charles has extended his arm above him to give the lady her drink. He just had a whiff of his scent, and  _ god _ he smells so good. 

 

Charles gives the glass to Erik, their fingers brushing lightly as he does so.

 

“Here’s your wine, sir. Do you need anything else?”

 

Erik doesn’t have the time to mouth a word, the old bat already complains about the same things as the beginning, her voice raising again, earning them mean looks from other passengers.

 

"I understand so well that you're currently enduring a very tough situation, Madam,” Charles starts, his voice delicate, a soft smile playing on his red lips, “But for the sake of the other passengers, could you please let the working class - work?"

 

“Well, that’s not my fault they still have to slave away after work-hours!”

 

Charles lets out a long suffering sigh, his eyes filled with a pity as infinite as it is fake. Erik is taken aback by his acting talent. "Poor things, they need that to live, you know. They are sacrificing every waking hour to their jobs, so that they can get some food."

 

"Oh dear I'm so sorry, but you know, I'm not used to be surrounded by people  _ that _ poor .." 

 

Erik is rather disgusted by her speech. She seems so sure, for a woman who never worked a day of her life. "I promise I'm going to behave, someone here has to show the example of dignity and good manners, my dear, don’t worry."

 

Strangling her would be rather problematic, and his laptop doesn’t deserve to be smashed by his forehead either, but the flying attendant smiles wickedly to him and winks before moving to the next row.

 

Erik can’t stop his mouth from twitching, trying to lift a corner against his will, amused by the man who now uses his charms against other naive passengers. The devil lies inside his beautiful features, and it gives an all new prospect to his travel back home. He can’t wait for Mister Xavier to come back over here. If he does. Erik certainly hopes so.

 

***

 

He manages to write his report before dinner is served, his laptop now safely tucked back in his satchel. The lunatic beside him has kept quiet long enough, but even without looking at her, he feels her fidgeting. Waiting for someone, perhaps? Yes, she is : waiting for one handsome Chief Attendant, as Charles Xavier comes back to his row with, this time, trays of food he gives to each passenger. Erik smirks. Charles is not even two seats before theirs and she’s moving hands at the beautiful man to grab his attention. Charles’ eyes rake over them both and a smile tugs at his gorgeous lips, but he keeps the pace at distributing food, not at all in any rush.

 

Erik‘s eyes are mesmerized by Charles’ approaching body, and he can sometimes see that the man gives languid glances in his direction.

 

Interesting. Really, really interesting. Intriguing. So Erik tugs at his shirt collar to straighten it and rolls his shoulders to make it cling to his torso beneath his open suit jacket. Charles might be handsome, but Erik knows he himself is not the least attractive guy on this plane, either. He gently moves a hand in his short hair, ruffling it a bit, making him look as if he was just out of bed (or back from a run, minus the sweating). Visibly, Charles wants to play, but two can play that sort of game.

 

Charles is nearly not fast enough in his deliveries. Erik can’t wait for him to be by his side, hungry as he is - but not exactly hungry for food. He needs an eyeful, and he is going to get it shortly, because Charles is just in front of him, serving the passengers one row further. He observes him quietly, lets the woman next to him fidget more and more while trying to see what she will get, and sits back in his seat. He should better try to look like he doesn’t give the slightest interest in the steward, while his loins are on fire. How can a man be so devastatingly gorgeous and not wear a ring on his left hand?  _ No _ , he didn’t pick that particular thought, it came on its own. He didn’t look precisely at this area while observing Charles work just in front of him,  _ thank you very much _ .

 

Charles is once again excruciatingly polite with both his neighbor and him, and his eyes are locked with Erik‘s the entire time, but he can’t linger.

 

Too bad that Charles has to bend forward to get the last tray for the row behind, meaning that Erik gets a sight to behold of Charles’ ass just in front of his eyes, calling for a smack of the hand on the offered round surface. Erik‘s skin tickles, his muscles jerking with the  _ want  _ to touch, but that would be hardly acceptable in front of the whole plane, so he abstains. With great efforts. Maybe he’ll have the occasion to say a word to the  _ Chief Attendant _ after they land. Like obtain one or two key informations. A time and location, for example.

 

But… what if it’s only plain flirt, something that any passenger might receive from him, provided that they have good looks? What if it’s just… A game?

 

Erik‘s doubts are extinguished like flames under water when he catches a sight of blue eyes, looking at him with a mischievous glint in the eye  just as Charles straightens up. He doesn’t dream the wink Charles gives him either.

 

Too bad that he would have to turn his head and let it jut out in the row to be able to observe Charles’ retreating and equally gorgeous back, but for the sake of discretion, he restrains himself.

 

***

 

Erik busies himself with a newspaper he picked at the airport before leaving for the few remaining hours, learning what went wrong -  _ again _ \- in the world for the past few days. When meeting around the countries for his company, he easily forgets to stay tuned with the  world.

 

He is in the middle of an article about the famous English detective who had caught another villain - he can’t even pronounce his name, who the hell would name their child “Sherlock”?! - when Charles comes back with the snack tray. Once again, he can watch him walk around and smile to every passenger, offering them hot and cold beverages. Once again, the old bat moves as if her seat was set ablaze, trying to get his attention on her, and once again Charles smiles to her as he gives her another flute of champagne. Erik starts to wonder about her alcoholism when Charles uses that beautiful voice of his to ask him what he needs. He almost says that he doesn’t want anything, but for the sake of keeping him just a little bit longer, he orders a coffee. Erik watches Charles pour the steaming beverage with deft hands before handing it to him. Their fingers brush for the most delicate instant before Charles retreats, leaving him with the cup in his left hand, but it doesn’t stay there long. The woman, eager to take a grab at Charles’ sleeve to visibly ask something of the utmost importance, bumps into the gobelet which spills its hot beverage all over Erik‘s white shirt.

 

Erik is up before he can even think of it, the coffee burning his skin as he tries to open the first few buttons, but there’s so much of it it’s dripping down to his navel. He doesn’t register Charles’ hands that seem to try and grab him, to help him, but he only looks at the damn hag who just made a point of ruining his shirt, his travel back home, and his chances at getting Charles’ number.

 

“That’s what you call dignity and good manners, huh? I haven’t seen you only _once_ being a decent human being, saying you are childish would be an insult to any kid on the damn plane! So please kindly _shut up_ _and stop moving_!” Erik hisses between gritted teeth, before retrieving the empty cup, fallen on his seat, to throw it in the bin attached to the trailer. He doesn’t wait for any answer from the so-called lady before darting off to the plane’s microscopic restroom.

 

He’s in the middle of opening his shirt in the bathroom, both sides still tucked safely in his trousers, when the sliding door opens, letting Charles appear with a set of complimentary toiletries and a plain white button-up shirt with the airline logo above the front pocket. The steward stops abruptly, visibly taken aback by the view Erik has to offer, before stepping inside the already cramped room and closing the door.

 

“We need to take that off before it burns you too much.” Charles says, his body almost completely in contact with Erik‘s, his waistcoat grazing the bare skin of his stomach, sending tremors to his spine despite the burn. Before he can even react, Charles’ hands are on the hems of his shirt, tugging it free, having left what they were holding in the sink.

 

“Unbutton your cuffs.” Charles orders, his voice strict and demanding. He starts to rummage through the toiletries when the plane suddenly drops a few meters, making them jump out of fear, their bodies closer than earlier.

 

“We are actually encountering some turbulences,” announces the pilot over the microphone. “Please fasten your seatbelts and wait for our next announcement. All indoor doors will be automatically locked for the duration of the turbulences, thank you for your understanding.” and they actually hear the lock getting on, effectively blocking them in the tiny space, Erik half naked and trying to suppress his body’s reactions to having such nice and warm flesh against him. He can see heat creeping up to Charles’ cheeks, and the view is endearing. He would touch if his fingers weren’t already clamping on cold plastic furniture, hard enough to make his joints go white. Charles seems to have found his composure back and is once again looking for something in the kit he brought.

 

“I’ve got it!” he exclaims, bringing up a little bottle. “I think I asked you to remove your shirt, Sir…”

 

“Erik.” he answers as he does as told, trying not to knock the man up with an elbow. Charles takes that as a cue and helps him to drag the soaked up fabric from his lean arms.

 

“Here, have some moisturizer to relieve the burn feeling, I’m afraid that’s all I have right now, as we are locked inside…”

 

Charles is looking up at him, waiting for an answer, his bright eyes just a little lower than his own, and Erik is completely subjugated by the view of the man, so close, so neat and poised and at the same time a bit breathless, cheeks still red. He takes the offered lotion and pours some on his right hand before spreading it on his burnt torso. The cool feeling immediately takes off the edge of the pain, and he massages his skin thoughtfully. The back of his hand grazes against Charles’ tie at each circle he does, but he won’t say it bothers him. Charles has averted his gaze for a few seconds, looking at the circling hand, before moving back up to Erik‘s face, his pupils round and dilated.

 

Erik can’t breathe, has stopped a while ago, his heart thrumming against his ribcage as if it wanted to get the hell out of here. They look at each other, waiting for something, anything.

Like another turbulence to set them off.

 

And that’s what happens next, making Erik lose his balance, and now he’s fully flushed against the flight attendant, Charles’ back against the door, his head framed by Erik‘s hands.

Their noses are almost touching, their accelerated breaths mingled, as they watch each other turn beet-red. None of them dares to move, feeling the other body against them, and Charles has clutched his hands to Erik‘s hips while falling, and the more they wait the more they feel their hearts beating in sync, their heads approach as if there were a magnet between them, and slowly, oh so slowly their lips touch.

 

Erik feels like being struck by lightning, his mouth the contact point, and soon he is invading Charles’ space - even more so than before if it’s even possible - leaning completely against him and grinding slowly as his tongue comes to dance with Charles’. It’s like he hasn’t felt anything like it before, kissing someone and losing every little bit of restraint he has, licking lavishingly the offered mouth, gulping down every noise the beautiful, white throat produces, getting his hands anywhere he can, crumpling the waistcoat and the shirt, tugging at the thin necktie, gripping strands of brown hair before going to cup a fistful of firm ass as their pelvis rub each other’s.

 

He loves the fact that Charles’ body fits so rightfully against his, he loves the scent, the muffled noises, the eagerness with which Charles answers.

 

Charles is rummaging through his hair too, and then seems to try and find where he could land his hands, seems to want to touch him everywhere at the same time.

 

Soon, Erik‘s deft fingers are opening the jacket’s buttons, as Charles needs to be at the same level of nakedness as him before he loses it. He tugs at the tie, loosening the knot, but doesn’t undo it completely, leaving it at his neck as the collar goes undone, opening an avenue of creamy-white, hairless skin from his torso down to his navel, followed by a thin trail of dark hairs falling down his pants.

 

Erik would do anything right now to be able to get down on his knees, to mouth at all this expanse of offered skin, to discover everything that is still hidden, but there’s not enough space, so his hand caresses Charles’ front, rubs at a nipple then plays with the ladder of his ribs before tugging eagerly at Charles’ belt.

 

He manages to get his bottom lip out of Charles’ gentle biting, parting from the kiss to nuzzle at Charles’ freshly shaven jaw before nipping at his earlobe and his pale neck.

 

Charles, opened shirt and dark tie against his skin, disheveled, eyes full of lust and want, looks at him through his dark and long lashes, his intent clear enough for Erik to just shiver at the idea. He just can’t get him out of his trousers fast enough.

The sizzle of the microphone takes them both by surprise, making them jump out of their skins.

 

“Dear passengers, we are pleased to announce that we are now out of the turbulences range. You can unfasten your seatbelts, the doors will unlock. We thank you for your understanding.”

 

Without a second thought, Erik stretches his arm, pointing the fingers at the door, and seals it shut once again with his powers.

 

The look he earns from Charles is both disbelieving and charmed.

 

“Groovy!” is all that escapes from Charles’ mouth before he rushes once again against Erik.

Between heated kisses, Erik can barely manage, “What? I thought using powers while flying was strictly forbidden, Mister Filthy Chief Attendant?”

 

“And what am I going to do, Erik? Punish you? I’m afraid you would rather like it, and that would not be the point at all.”

 

_ “Maybe you’d rather I call security on you?”  _ Charles’ voice rings inside his head, and  _ oh god a telepath of fucking course  _ is all he can think – purr - as he ravishes once again the cherry-red mouth.

 

He doesn’t bother to hide anymore, uses his abilities to open both their trousers and to tug them out of the way. Each time, it seems to please Charles all the more.

They can barely move, but the promiscuity is so, so good, they don’t even care. Erik manages to make Charles get out of the trousers pooled at his feet and to make his boxers go down to the same fate.

 

He keeps his eyes open, needing to watch Charles, naked from the waist down, his arms almost trapped by his falling white shirt, his cock hard and pressed between them, against his own briefs.

 

“Erik…” Charles whines, and he makes too much noise already, Erik just wants to make him  _ scream his name _ for all the damn plane to hear, as much as he wants to keep this moment only to themselves, to cherish for hours on end. So he just kisses him again, slides his hands down Charles’ back to enjoy his now bare ass and shielding it from the cold door at his back before going down again and clutching at one of his tights to lift it against his hip. He shifts his weight, get his other arm around Charles’ back before lifting him and making him seat on the edge of the sink, clean shirt soon fallen to the floor. Charles can rise his feet against the opposite wall as Erik slides between his open tights.

He is trembling now, and he can’t even fucking care, all he needs is to  _ touch _ and  _ kiss  _ and  _ fuck  _ Charles to completion. And maybe even more.

 

“ _ Moisturizer“  _ Charles whispers in his head, once again, keeping silent even if it’s all too long since they got in here and that they may have or may have not been pounding against the door earlier for it not to be suspicious. “ _ I’m keeping them occupied just enough not to question how long” _ and even his mental voice is endearingly out of breath.

 

Erik’s hands rummage around Charles’ body for the damn lotion, and soon get it. He tries to think hard of a condom, hoping that Charles would pick up the thought. “ _ I don’t usually carry one in my front pockets, sorry, for Christ’s sake don’t yell in my head, ‘m clean and you too so just get working already!” _

 

_ Bossy _ is the word that comes to his mind right now. But he can’t say he won’t obey. He lets his brief fall, letting his cock spring free in the air and opens the jar once again, coating his fingers with the lotion before moving his hand to Charles’ offered ass.

 

Erik prepares him thoroughly, making him whine and collapse his head against the mirror more than once during the process, and when Charles is finally nothing more than a withering mess, Erik pours more lotion on his cock before sliding gently in.

 

He has to take a minute to breathe in and out when he is completely sheathed in, his heart thrumming oh so rapidly in his chest, and he rests his brow against Charles’, one sweet shared moment before Charles asks him to move by undulating his hips.

 

Charles’ mouth finds Erik’s ear as he starts working slowly in him, and all the stimuli is like a wave crashing inside him, leaving him overwhelmed, and he realizes just now that Charles is broadcasting in his head, sharing everything he feels and mixing it with what Erik experiences. The only thing that counts now is seeking pleasure on both sides, intimately aware of every move Charles likes more without having to say a word, just by the noises he makes and the sensations he shares with him. His mind is a whirlwind of colours and warmth and feelings and it’s so, so mesmerizing to be able to watch it as his eyes are focused on Charles’ pleasure-contorted face, mixing both and revelling in it.

 

Erik is able to catch glimpses of himself as Charles sees him, his hair mussed, lips red and swollen from kissing, his tanned skin covered by a thin sheen of sweat as he pounders into him, pupils wild. He seizes Charles’ tie and tugs it to let their lips meet once again in a rush of tongues and teeth, and is rewarded by a surge of so sheer and raw pleasure from Charles it makes his knees buckle.

 

“ _ Erik yes please… I… I…” _ Charles’ hands grip his shoulders in what would be a painful grip if not for all the lust he feels right now, and Erik bends once again Charles’ spine with his iron grip on his tie, nearly lifting him from the tiny countertop, eager to have his heated skin against his own as Charles loses it, his mind exploding as he comes between them without even the help of Erik’s hand.

 

Erik is on the edge of his own orgasm as Charles lays back against the mirror, his chest heaving, skin flushed and his face wearing an expression so thoroughly  _ fucked _ it sets him over the crest of it. He muffles his cries in the crook of Charles’ shoulders as he comes inside him.

 

It takes them both a few minutes to regain full consciousness and to even their mingled breathing, their brows connected and fingers entwined. Erik is the first to move, pulling out before stepping back as far as he can to let Charles get up from the counter and land on trembling feet.

 

Slowly, he scrubs Charles’ stomach with toilet paper to rid him of his drying semen before setting his shirt on his shoulders again. He gently nips at his neck as he starts to button the fabric, feeling the shivers he causes as Charles closes his eyes and lifts his head to give him better access. Too soon the task is accomplished, and he gets the tie in place before tightening the knot properly.

 

Erik manages to bend just enough to close his fingers around Charles’ boxers and trousers and to get them up his legs, leaving a trail of kisses up the bone of his hip as he gets up. Charles seems all too pleased to let Erik dress him, tugging his shirt back inside his pants, hands lingering every now and then on his skin, worshiping the body he held so close for a few stolen moments, not eager to let him go, to leave the bubble they wrapped themselves in, in the secrecy of the cranky room.

 

He makes a quick job of his own briefs and trousers as Charles sets his hair to a less disastrous shape, deft fingers scraping at Erik’s scalp in circles to soothe the maelstrom of emotions setting a storm inside his head. Charles lifts himself up to his toes to kiss him gently, passion dissolved in calm adoration.

 

He then hands Erik the shirt he initially brought him in replacement for his ruined own, and Erik is not sure how he is supposed to fit his shoulders in, so he lets more than a few buttons open before tucking it in his trousers. Charles manages to turn and they both look at their reflection in the mirror, exchanging glances through it before Erik sets the lock back in its place. They can’t linger here anymore, as much as he would like to stay in Charles’ presence, the man has duties he can’t hold him back from. Charles turns his head to look directly at him, and Erik just kisses him one last time over his shoulder before stepping out and walking down the row to his siege.

 

His body is exhausted from the exertion and his mind is in a roiling anger at the idea of never seeing this man again when the hag beside him starts to complain  _ again _ . He should be ashamed of what he looks like, she says, and she has watched him go and close the door after the poor Chief Attendant came in, and he took way too much time to change a poor shirt and seriously who does he think he is, committing such horrible sins inside a plane, and Erik is really,  _ really  _ near seizing her gold chain with his powers to strangle her, interdictions be damned, when Charles comes to his side, his looks clearly giving what they were doing inside the bathroom.

 

“My lady, I will ask you to never open your mouth again until we are safely landed and departed, none of this is your business even if you are responsible for the state of his shirt. Am I getting myself clear? Thank you and enjoy the rest of your travel.”

 

He then hands Erik a coffee, letting his other hand linger on his shoulder before going back to his station.

 

***

 

Charles is at the door of the plane to let the travellers see through the exit when Erik comes at his level. He has been churning at words to say for the remaining hour he had after their encounter, and he still doesn’t know how to approach the man to let him know he would like to see him again, but Charles spares him the pain as he hands him a napkin with a phone number on it.

 

“For the dry cleaning fees and a coffee anytime you want.” He says cheerfully. “See you soon on our company.”

 

Erik’s smile doesn’t falter for hours on end after that.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoyed your time reading this !
> 
> See you soon
> 
> Nalou


End file.
